Privet Drive, Memory Lane
by Intervigilium
Summary: Sirius is out of Azkaban and on the run. While looking for Harry, he finds a lost piece of his past. A challenge fic (rules at the author notes).


**DISCLAIMER:** You know the drill. Don't own the characters, nor the universe. Story written for a challenge (explained at the end). Enjoy!

_1995. Harry has just been cleared of his charges._

"Where's Sirius?"

Harry looked around, enjoying the sudden freedom provided by the combined chanting of Fred, George and Ginny.

"Dunno. Feeding Buckbeak, maybe?" Hermione offered.

_He usually does that later_. Harry excused himself and started making his way up the stairs, the bitter feeling of that building attempting to numb his excitement. The boy opened the door to find Buckbeak, but no Sirius. Continuing his search, Harry was almost reaching his godfather's room when they found each other.

"Harry! What of the … ?"

"Cleared," he breathed. There was relief, and joy, and a flicker of something else Harry couldn't discern in the look Sirius gave him before he rushed to give the boy strong pats on his shoulders.

"Well, that saves me the trouble of breaking you out of Azkaban." Sirius let out that bark of his, putting an arm around Harry and leading him back. "If possible, I would like a detailed description of Fudge's face when he heard the good news."

Harry forgot Lucius Malfoy for a moment. Forgot about Dumbledore's sudden departure. Forgot his bloody scar. "It was brilliant! Dumbledore didn't give him a leg to stand on, Sirius… we had a witness' testimony – although Mrs. Figg and her slippers weren't _that_ reliable, she helped – and then Dumbledore all but accused the Ministry of sending the Dementors themselves!"

"Arabella was there?"

Harry frowned. _That_ was his question? "Yeah. Dumbledore took her to the Ministry himself. She described the attack and how she felt the Dementors."

"I see." Sirius then raised his head. "Hey, I can smell Molly's kitchen machinations; I don't always agree with the woman, but she can cook her way through most of our issues." He gave Harry a sly grin, giving him a fatherly shove towards the stairs. "Get downstairs and save me a seat on the table, I'll join you in a minute. And Harry?"

Harry stopped by the stairs, that jolt of happiness brought by their encounter somewhat fading. "Yeah?"

"Life was hard on Arabella Figg. I don't imagine she's particularly fond of 'returning' to the wizarding world; so let's be thankful she was there, right?"

"Um, sure, Sirius. I am. Thankful, I mean."

"Good. I'll just get a book I forgot and put it back where it belongs. Remember my seat!" he almost yelled, returning to his bedroom. Harry, still befuddled with Sirius' behaviour, slowly counted his steps down. _We really need to get him out of this house more …_

Sirius closed the bedroom door behind him and reached for one of the many random books now occupying his nightstand. _They provide boredom, and if I'm lucky, sleepiness_, he often told Remus, the proclaimed bookworm of the Fantastic Four. Well, _Fantastic Three and a Quarter of a Man…_

Memories flooded, and in that flood, his fingers reached for a set of crystal glass and bottle. Pouring himself a small dose, he brought the drink to his lips.

"Here's to you, brother. Great kid, that one. Tell Lily he'll break some hearts with her eyes."

He poured yet another dose. This time there was a strange smile accompanying his toast.

"And here's to you, _Doreen_. Merlin knows you deserve it."

* * *

_1993. Harry just entered the Knight Bus._

The stocky dog emerges as the bus disappears. He's black as night; shadows detach from his frame almost as tendrils returning to the void.

_He's safe. Good Merlin, he's safe, James._

Sirius takes a good look down the street. The animal in him snarls "shelter" and "rest," and he knows he must obey. He has to find somewhere to lay low, steal some food and steel himself. There's a long way to Hogwarts and he took too many chances already – even for his standards - coming here. Close to his _mark_. Where he knew they'd wait for him. The irony of the situation comes out of his body in low, steady growls.

_Damn fools even warned the Muggles! I must be hitting all the right nerves._

It is then, while the Animagus indulges in a brief moment of animalistic ire, that it comes to him, slowly. Distant, but potent … a familiar signature; something, no, _someone _that he recognizes. It is covered in unpleasant odors of all kinds – at least several felines – but it _is_ there. Even his shapeshifted body can't help a frown. It's too strong now to ignore, too much of a coincidence to overlook.

Sirius weaves his way from garden to garden, treading where the street lights can't reach him, using bushes as camouflage when he can. The smell is stronger as he approaches a particularly dark house. The garden needs care and there are spots of peeling paint here and there, but at least one light is on. The black dog is panting heavily while he crosses the street and circles the house, looking for a possible way in.

He mind-wrestles with himself about the stupidity of what he's trying to do, and this costs him seconds of distraction that freeze his body when the kitchen lights are lit. A woman watches him from the window, first with evident apprehension; he stares right back, even though his brain is telling him to run. Time passes and faces change, but he's sure. He's _so_ sure.

The woman in the kitchen is Arabella Figg.

Arabella's eyes linger over her 'guest'. That first scare fades. Her head doesn't tilt, her breath is even and she doesn't seem to show any emotion. His ears detect several cats mewling near her, but she makes no sound. It feels like an hour passes before she moves away, turning off the lights.

_What the f … ?_

His ears flip when the front door creaks open.

"Wipe your paws."

It's all that she says, her voice low and sad. Before the man has time to think, the dog moves, and the door closes behind him.

The return to human form is quick and erratic. Sirius isn't used to being scared with women, but Arabella's reaction to him … _she never knew I …_

He stands, but his frame isn't what it used to be. Sirius tries to breathe slowly, sizing up the woman in front of him. She doesn't even flinch, and the only sounds inside the house continue to be from animals.

"They're locked," she finally says. "Kneazles. Tufty noticed someone _different_ in the neighborhood earlier today. They're all wired because of you."

"_Tufty_?" he mutters, dumbfounded.

For the first time, she manages what almost passes for a hollow smile. "The whole country looking for you; does it feel like a good time to argue cat names now, Sirius Black?"

_So she knew. But how?_

Arabella doesn't wait for conversation to follow. Instead, she moves past him and into the living room, her slippers dragging along. Sirius takes several long breaths before following. She takes a large chair and leaves the couch for him. The smell is almost toxic, but his body welcomes the much needed rest immediately. Their silence however proves to be unbearable after a while.

"How did you know it was me?"

"Your eyes." She distracts her fingers with a cat figurine. "When you were a dog they looked pretty much the same as they used to. Not as much now that you are, well, _you_. I also happen to live close to Harry Potter, and some friends – well, more like _acquaintances_ – of mine have reason to believe you have unfinished business with that boy. They asked – well, told me – to keep an eye for a mad assassin."

Her tone is so detached that Sirius has a hard time knowing if she's being ironic or merely dishing out data.

"And I _knew_ you were an Animagus. "

_That, I remember_.

"You seem impressed," she almost asks, no longer staring at the figurine.

"I am." _She is frank. No reason why I shouldn't be._

"Well, most people will tell you I'm crazy nowadays. I can't blame them: breeding Kneazles isn't a popular profession. But I am not stupid, Sirius."

"You never were."

"That's debatable." She snorts, muttering something to herself. "One could call this harboring a fugitive."

"Well, that leads me to the next obvious question."

Arabella sighs. "If you were the crazed monster they say you are, Sirius, you would have jumped through that kitchen window, fangs and claws out, and killed me."

Sirius blinks heavily. _She almost seems sad that I didn't._ "Then … you don't believe … "

"I saw you with James Potter several times. You and your friends at all those Order meetings. Even if Imperiused, I don't reckon you wouldn't have been able to betray him. There was too much heart between the two of you."

_Damn memories.  
_

* * *

_1981. Before 'The Betrayal' and Sirius' imprisonment._

It's one of those inexplicable things. An Order meeting late at night, a secluded bar none of them will ever enter again. Young men listen to older men, and all he can do is nod, eyes fixed on the forty-something woman by the end of the counter. She's not exotic; she's … _unavoidable_. Men stare, but she never stares back.

He sees the ring on her finger; it doesn't matter to him. Love is what James and Lily found, and he has no illusions of finding something similar. "Someone has to keep them entertained, James," he'd say, and he'd be called a whore, and they'd laugh and move on to other subjects.

By the time the meeting is over he sits next to her. She doesn't give him an opening, and he doesn't ask for one; there's silence and good bourbon, and through these days, even that's hard to come by.

"You should go home, _boy_," she finally tells him, her voice deep and sure of herself.

"We _both_ should."

"Classy." She downs her drink with a smirk. "I'm sure that usually works."

"I wouldn't know. It's the first time I try it, really."

"So men don't even bother sugar coating their lies anymore? Shocking."

She looks at him, half of a smile, and Sirius feels challenged. They both know it's ridiculous. That it can't mean anything, that this is no love story budding in the middle of a war. His easy grin telegraphs that he's not interested in anything but her body. She has no plans of abandoning her husband for a one-night stand.

Of course, that also doesn't stop either of them from doing what they do in the alley. He's not gentle, and she controls him like a dog on a leash (and although Sirius will never admit it, it is one of the perks of screwing older women). It's a mistake, it's a horrible mistake.

And they will continue do make it through the next weeks. At his many hideouts. A hotel. The piano in her living room. She's bored, and he's young; it's perfect math.

* * *

It starts almost as a game one day.

"Doreen," she breathes, after he rolls to her side, completely exhausted.

"Doreen?"

"My middle name. It's Doreen."

"Why are you telling me this?" he demands. Her bare shoulders shrug, sweat glimmering on her skin.

"Why not? We act as strangers everywhere else."

_Why not indeed._

"I learned to whistle two years ago," he grunts. She laughs and climbs on top of him.

"Sounds terrible."

* * *

It goes to the point where they're almost out of information to trade. And then…

"I am an Animagus. Unregistered."

They are laying sideways, facing each other. She always knew when he was lying, and this time he wasn't.

"Why are you telling _me_ this?"

It's his shrug, now. "Why not? Who would you tell? _Why_ would you tell?"

She eyes the mattress, and nods. A playful smirk, that juvenile one she saves for him once or twice, appears on her face.

"So what kind of animal?"

He captures her lips and makes his down her body. Question time is over.

* * *

"Why the long faces?" he asks, throwing his coat over the table at yet another meeting.

"It's Figg." Remus has that tired look on his face. "They got him, Sirius."

_Him?_ That second of surprise vanishes and he remembers Arabella is, in fact, married. _Was_ married. He knows there's conversation around him, but can't focus on it.

"We can continue to use his properties, Arabella is okay with it; but she's out of the Order for a while. Says she needs a break."

"Can't blame her; she always looked out of place here. Reckon being a part of this world and not _actively_ participating… well, you know what they say about Squibs, they never really _belong _… "

"Peter, her _husband_ just died."

"You're right. You're right … sorry."

He doesn't run out the door looking for her. He pays attention to the meeting, grabs his coat and moves on with his life. Sirius learns that she'll maintain her husband's surname, and takes that as a hint that it is over. It was never meant to last. And it isn't long before The Betrayal, and after that, well, if you're not Peter Pettigrew, Harry Potter, or vengeance, you don't belong anywhere inside Sirius Black's mind.

It never happened.

* * *

_1993. Arabella Doreen Figg's residence._

Sirius can't help but stare. _Where did the Arabella Figg I knew go?_ This woman before him… well, he knew a good look in the mirror would tell him he, too, was not the strong, stupid boy he was back then.

"I didn't know what to do." It's all he manages to say. It sounds croaked coming out of his mouth.

Arabella waves her hand. "No one did. You weren't my first mistake, Sirius. Don't feel like you have a cross to bear because of who I am, or what I look like now."

"You don't … "

"I do." She eyes him. "I was not a good wife. My husband died an honest man, and I suddenly had no one to apologize to. My sins were still with me, though. They always will be."

"So I left. I help if I can, and how I can. I owe it to Daniel and his fight for a better world. But it's not my world anymore."

She stands up, raising her hand to stop Sirius from doing the same.

"Rest. I don't have much food that's suitable for humans in the house, but take what you want. Make sure you get some sleep. But by the time I wake up, I expect you to be gone. Are we clear?"

Sirius is left speechless. He can only nod, forcing some of his old conviction back into his eyes.

"Keep that boy safe, Sirius Black. And try not to get yourself killed doing so."

"I'll try."

She nods, giving him a thin smile and placing a hand on his shoulder before turning around. She's almost opening her bedroom door when he whispers:

"Doreen."

Her cats are silent, as if they wanted her to hear. She comes back. He's a shadow of the man he used to be. In a sense, they are echoes, she thinks; deformed doppelgangers.

"It's been a while since someone called me that," she says, leaning weakly against the door frame.

"It's a beautiful name; suits a beautiful woman."

She shakes her head, a mock reproving laughter following.

"Always a charmer. Good night, Sirius."

"Good night, Doreen."

**AUTHOR NOTES**: This was written for a challenge. Contestants were given a pairing (in this case, Arabella Figg/Sirius Black - it was completely random) and had 24 hours to come up with a story for them. This is what I was able to do. I know it's not brilliant, but I felt like uploading a few short stories I have saved up here).

To anyone who reads and is still interested in "Diving", yes it will continue. I haven't been satisfied with the next chapter and revisions over it are constant, but I do plan to finish it, at least the entire fourth year. Thanks for all the patience and support, read and review if you like.


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